Trick-Or-Treat
by Margay96
Summary: Based off an anonymous tumblr prompt: In the spirit of Halloween, why not have a fix where Peter joins Wade and Ellie to Trick or Treating.


Peter had a bit of a love-hate relationship with Halloween. On the one hand, it was comforting to know that he wasn't the strangest dressed person roaming the streets. On the other hand, Halloween brought out all the weirdos, which made his job that much harder.

He had to admit, as far as New York weather went, tonight wasn't bad. The twilight wind was warm against his skin, a welcome reprieve from the usual late October chill. The breeze threaded its way down the street, causing fairy wings and capes to flutter with that special brand of childhood magic. There were a surprising number of street vendors open and catering to the trick-or-treating crowds. Excited squeals filled the air as wildly enthusiastic children dragged equally harried and disgruntled parents from house to house. And right in the middle of them all, taking full advantage of his anonymity, was Spider-Man himself, Peter Parker.

He had just about decided to call it a night, MJ was forcing him to go to some 'wicked' party-her words, not his- and the one good thing about patrolling on Halloween was the fact that he never needed to change out of his costume, when he felt a tap on his elbow.

"Excuse me, Mistah Spidey?" Peter looked down in surprise to find an adorable little girl dressed like Mario the plumber staring up at him. She held up a small digital camera. "Do you think we could get a picture with you?"

Spider-Man nodded. It figured that someone would recognize him eventually. There weren't that many adults in costume this year- a travesty if anyone asked him- which no one ever did. As long as nobody recognized him at the party, he should be fine. "Sure little girl! That's what your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is here for! Fighting crime and looking fine!" He aimed a pair of finger-guns at the little Mario and made lame little pew-pew noises to get her to laugh.

It worked and she giggled. "Guns don't sound like _that_ , silly. They go bang pop! And they kill people." She cocked her head to the side. "You know, my dad says that the best part of Halloween is getting to meet all of the Spidey cosplayers. I think it's the free candy. So we made a bet."

"Oh yeah? And what was the bet?" Peter asked as the little girl handed her camera over to her mom.

"That she couldn't visit twice the houses than I could find cosplayers," came a deep rumbling voice out of the person that Peter had assumed was the girl's mother. He did a double take. The girl's father appeared to be dressed as some sort of zombie Princess Peach. No, not zombie, Peter realized. The scars on the other man's face seemed too alive to be makeup. As Peter watched, one of them seemed to disappear completely only to reappear just inches above where it had been. It was…disturbing to say the least, yet not altogether unfamiliar.

"Deadpool," Peter muttered under his breath. What the hell? What was he doing _here_?

"How do you know my daddy's name?" Peter looked down into the troubled gaze of the little Mario. And back up into the equally confused gaze of Deadpool. Shit. Okay, okay, if he could talk his way out of the clutches of the sinister six, he could definitely talk his way out of this. But not as Spider-Man. If that mouthy merc caught wind that he was dealing with the _real_ Spider-Man, there was no way in hell that he was getting to that party later. Instead, he opted for a half-truth.

"I work as a photographer for the daily bugle." Okay, so far so good. "It's my job to know who people are." Gosh, could he sound like any _more_ of a contemptuous prick?"

Deadpool narrowed his eyes at Peter. "The Daily Bugle," he said slowly, as if he were struggling to remember something. "You…Your name wouldn't happen to be Peter Parker by any chance…would it?"

What.

Peter's mind drew an absolute blank. Fortunately, as Peter struggled to regain his grasp of the English language, Deadpool wasn't finished talking. "You're Spidey's personal photographer, aren't you? Aren't you? Oh, em, gee. Ellie, do you know who this is?! This is Peter _fucking_ Parker!" Peter wasn't quite sure if he was hallucinating or not, but even if he wasn't, he didn't think he had ever heard his name said quite so excitedly or with quite so much emotion. "Omigosh, you _have_ to tell me what it's like working with Spidey! I bet you know all of the good gossip, amiright? Come on, what's he like?"

Overwhelmed, Peter tore off his mask, as if _that_ would help him to gain some perspective. If anything, it just made Deadpool's squeals even louder.

"Oh my gosh! No one told me you were a cutie! Ellie, change of plans. This picture is going to be me and pseudo-Spidey. I need to remember this moment." Deadpool swung around behind Ellie and hooked his arm around Peter's neck. Peter, who's brain was still trying to wrap itself around the fact that, not only did Deadpool have a _daughter_ , said daughter was ridiculously cute. His eyes flicked between Deadpool's hamburger-face and his daughter's (no Ellie, he chastised himself) cute little murder-pout. Oh, there it was. They both had the same psycho-murder gleam to their eyes. The only difference between them was that Ellie still had the face of an angel and the childlike innocence that went along with it. Peter shuddered to think what it would be like to be on the receiving end of Deadpool's death glare.

"You said I got to be in the pictures," Ellie huffed and crossed her arms. "S'not fair."

Deadpool, or _Dad_ pool as Peter was now starting to think of him as, rolled his eyes. "Well then get your cute little tushie over here! We don't have all day." Ellie squealed and threw herself at her father, momentarily tackling him off balance.

Peter forced his mouth into what he hoped was a grin as Deadpool and Ellie leaned in and snapped their picture. Blinking the flash out of his eyes, Peter realized that he was now left with the problem as to how to get rid of his present company.

"Thanks for being a good sport about this, Petey-pie," Wade said as he clapped a hand down hard onto Peter's shoulder. "I know my daughter and I can come off a tad strong, and I just want to thank you for playing along."

"It was my pleasure," Peter replied. And, with surprise, he realized that it was. Hell, the last five minutes were probably going to be infinitely more interesting than the rest of his night. "If I may be so bold-"

"You may," Wade interrupted quickly with such gusto that left no doubt in Peter's mind that he really wouldn't mind doing anything that Peter proposed.

"If I may be so bold as to ask what your betting stakes were?" Peter finished, quirking an eye at Deadpool's outburst. "'Cause it seems to me that you're on the losing end of that bet. Do you know how many houses there are in this neighborhood? How many Spider-Men have you even met?"

"Counting you?" Deadpool quirked an eyebrows and started counting on his fingers. "…Well, that would be one counting you. Which is to say, none excluding you. Things are not looking good for me, no."

"Which means I get your candy!" Ellie sang next to him.

"You bet your candy?" Peter turned to Deadpool in mock horror. "What did you stand to gain if you won?"

"Spank bank material?" Deadpool shrugged. "Though, since Ellie's in this one, would you mind posing for another one? Mayhaps something provocative and/or sensual?" Wade laughed at Peter's panicked expression. "Relax, it was just a joke. Mostly. Not really. But, since I can see that you're in the mood for a change of subject, can I ask why?"

"Why what?" Peter asked.

"Why you're dressed up as the web-slinging wonder. Seems a little...I don't know…pretentious." Wade regarded him out of the corner of his eye. Peter sighed. Every year. He got the same question every damn year.

"Daddy, can we go now? My bucket is getting empty," Ellie loudly whispered up to her dad. Both men looked down to see that she had effectively polished off at least a fifth of her, admittedly small, haul.

"Yeah, we can go Ellie-bellie. We don't want to keep you out _too_ late now do we? Preston would probably call down an entire reserve battalion of shield agents if I kept you out past your bedtime. He glanced back up at Peter. "I don't suppose you have any desire to continue this conversation?"

Peter considered. On one hand, he could leave. He could leave and join MJ at some stuffy club and spend the remainder of his evening getting hit on by random floozies. On the other hand, he could stay here with Deadpool. With the surprisingly competent Dadpool and his ridiculously adorable plumber daughter. It was a surprisingly easy decision.

"I'll join you guys for a bit, if you don't mind. I'm desperately trying to avoid making the 'social scene' as it were." Peter fell into step easily beside Deadpool and waited with him on the sidewalk as Ellie ran up and down the driveways to acquire more candy.

"You know, you aren't the first person to ask me that. And yeah, I know it seems a little weird, mixing business and pleasure like this, but…I don't know. Spider-Man is the one thing I never seem to get tired of. Not for long, anyway.

The nice thing about Halloween is that nobody has to hide who they are. Honestly, it's relaxing being able to walk around in this suit and not be judged for it." Peter forced himself to keep his voice light, but the truth of it was, he was finally vocalizing things that had been weighing heavily on him for _years_. He stole a glance at Deadpool, suddenly afraid that he had said too much.

Deadpool smirked right back at him. "So what, you're Spider-Man? Like, for realsies?" Ellie rejoined them and they started making their way to the next block. "Nah, relax kid. No need to look so tense. I get what you're saying. I mean, there's a reason why I'm the one in the Princess getup and not my daughter."

"Yeah? And why's that? You're actually a woman?" Peter questioned, only half joking.

"Would you hold it against me if I were?" Deadpool replied, half serious. "I mean, I'm not. Well, I am in another universe, but definitely not this one. I just…I like feeling pretty. Shoot me." Wade muttered something under his breath that Peter couldn't quite discern, but what sounded suspiciously like 'You certainly wouldn't be the first'.

"So you actually picked Princess Peach? I just figured Ellie _really_ wanted to wear a fake mustache and just got stuck with the sloppy seconds."

"Princess Peach is not _sloppy seconds_!" Wade shouted loud enough to cause some nearby heads to swivel towards them. "She is a strong independent woman who don't need no man!"

Unsure of exactly _what_ to say to that, Peter kept his mouth clamped firmly shut and waited for Wade to continue.

"I mean, okay, I see your point. Ellie picked Mario and I picked Princess Peach because she was the only classy lady I could think of that had any sort of connection with Mario." He paused and stared dreamily at Ellie bouncing down the steps of a stony townhouse. "She makes the cutest Mario though, doesn't she? That's my girl: telling gender stereotypes to stick it where the sun don't shine."

Peter hummed in agreement and then unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth to ask the one question that he had been dying to ask for the last ten minutes. "Okay, look, this might be a bit personal, but can I just ask-"

"About Ellie? Her mom?" Peter nodded and Wade continued, "It was years ago, and to tell the truth, I don't remember it that well. It was just a one night stand," Wade clarified. "After that, I didn't even know she existed up until a few years ago. She's been through hell. I know she doesn't look it, but that's just 'cause she's got the best nanny-bot and therapists a mercenary's salary can afford. I'll admit, I'm not around as much as I should be. Though, in her case, I think that's probably a _good_ thing."

"Well, I can't say I'm exactly a child expert, so take this with a grain of salt, but I can tell she really loves you," Peter offered.

"Well, thanks, Petey-Pie. I'm sure that would sound much more reassuring if you had a doctorate in child psychology, but I appreciate the sentiment." Peter stopped himself from offering that he was actually studying to get a doctorate, but quickly realized that that would not help in any way, shape, or form and instead stayed quiet.

Or at least he tried to. "Hey, I'm going to a party later. Wanna come?" He asked before he could stop himself. Please say no, please say no, he begged internally.

Wade's ear-splitting grin, however, was all the confirmation he needed to confirm that his night was _far_ from over.


End file.
